T
he streets of Gaza are quieter than they used to be — not because peace has returned. The deep silence of hunger has replaced the noise of daily life. Every corner bears the marks of a deepening humanitarian catastrophe: gaunt faces of children, long lines at makeshift aid points and parents who have nothing left to give but words of comfort and prayer. The humanitarian collapse in Gaza did not happen overnight. On 2 March 2025, the Israeli Defense Forces sealed all crossings into the enclave — 16 days before the collapse of the temporary ceasefire between Israel and Hamas. With borders sealed, the already limited flow of food, medicine and fuel stopped entirely. Within weeks, hunger and malnutrition spread at an unprecedented pace. Preventable diseases began to take hold. By early August, the Hamas-run Ministry of Health in Gaza reported 201 people had died from famine and malnutrition since the start of the war, including 98 children. Those numbers rise daily. In the middle of Gaza City, amid rubble and market stalls selling a handful of overpriced simple popular sweets, 35-year-old Ahmed Al-Sawafiri describes the reality of survival: “Out of poverty, we have children we want to feed — nothing more or less,” he says. “The situation in general is really difficult, really tragic, and we hope to God things get better.” Hunger, he adds, is now part of everyday life. “The famine is great; children sometimes sleep without eating. What can we do? We just need to get by. It’s all in God’s will.” For Mr. Al-Sawafiri, faith is both a comfort and a lifeline. “Hopefully for the better,” he says, glancing at the street around him. “We ask God that things get better.”
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A few steps away, a boy in a small stall, barely tall enough to see over the market crowd, spends his days trying to earn enough to support his eight siblings, “so we can eat and live, and feed my little siblings.” Abdul Rahman Barghouth, 12, dreams of school, but for now his hope is that “the war ends, and prices go down.”
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aith runs through these conversations as naturally as breath. People speak of God’s will even as they recount the impossible choices they face, whether to send a child to line up for aid despite the risk of shelling, whether to sell the last piece of jewelry for a bag of rice, whether to skip their own meal so a child can eat. For 54-year-old Mozayal Hassouna, those choices leave deep emotional scars. “Some days we had been four days without bread,” she says. “My youngest son tells me, ‘You let me go to sleep hungry, Mom.’ But I can’t provide anything. My husband is 65 and sick; he can’t run after trucks for aid. We lost our stall in the market; our house was bombed like others. We have no income, nothing left to sell, but we do not object to God’s will.” Her son has developed a stutter, which a doctor says is the result of trauma from bombardment. Now they live in a tent, displaced for two months. “I hope the war ends all over Gaza,” she says. “Let us live, and the children live a little.” No story captures the cruel intersection of war, siege and hunger clearer than that of 2-yearold Muhammad Al-Mutawaq. His mother, Hidaya, has been displaced seven times since the war began. Her husband was killed early in the conflict in Jabalia, leaving her alone with four children. Before the recent escalation, Muhammad weighed
20 pounds. Today, he weighs just 13. “There is no aid entering Gaza,” she says. “Borders are closed; prices are very high. His only cure is to eat and drink.” She has tried hospitals, aid groups and community kitchens, but has not received sufficient aid. “I registered in many associations as a mother of orphans, but I didn’t benefit at all,” she says. “I got really tired going to hospitals, associations, schools, trying to find something for him.” Muhammad suffers from muscle relaxation, or myotonia, worsened by malnutrition. Physical therapy has helped, but without proper food, recovery is impossible. “Since I lost my husband, these are all God’s tests,” she says. “We will be patient, and hopefully it will end, and Muhammad will be like he used to be.” UNICEF spokesperson Salim Oweis called the situation in mid-August “a man-made catastrophe.” He warns hunger is now killing children in staggering numbers. “Over 90 have died from malnutrition since the war began — a staggering increase of more than 50 percent in less than three months,” he says. “We are witnessing a generation growing up with toxic stress, deprivation and trauma that will probably last a lifetime.” In July, nearly 12,000 children were diagnosed with acute malnutrition, compared with 2,000 in February. The Integrated Food Security Phase Classification, a collaborative initiative of worldwide crisis relief A camp in Gaza by the Mediterranean Sea provides shelter for those displaced by the war, which has made large parts of the strip uninhabitable. Inset, displaced people walk through a makeshift street market in Gaza City.